


Hope springs eternal

by DrJackAndMissIole



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 4+1, 5 Times, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Boys Kissing, M/M, Merlin is a doctor, Reincarnations, The End Is Fluffy, but i had to so i'm sorry, i couldn't bring myself to write more angst, kind of first kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJackAndMissIole/pseuds/DrJackAndMissIole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You will see him many times, though I can’t tell you when nor where, but you will see him. And he will be out of your reach"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope springs eternal

_“You will see him many times, though I can’t tell you when nor where, but you will see him. And he will be out of your reach”_ , a seer had told him many, many, _many_ years ago, just a few moments before closing his eyes forever. At the time, Merlin couldn’t believe it: the love of his immortal life had died, and the greatest sorcerer of all time simply couldn’t bring himself to hope that they’ll ever meet again. Yes, it was true that Arthur was the Once and Future King and was supposed to come back to life and emerge from the depths of Albion when the time came, but Merlin’s luck had always been so rotten and he couldn’t ever believe that something like that was ever going to happen. At least not on his watch. The seer probably had gotten the wrong person, the wrong prophecy, the wrong everything.

For almost six centuries Merlin refused to believe he would’ve meet again, _see again_ , his lover. His heart had endured so much pain and sorrow and Hope was not going to heal that wound. He had remained at Queen Guinevere’s disposal all her life and was the last person to leave her bedside after she had died. His time to leave Camelot and start exploring the world had came. He had travelled all around England and Scotland for years. He was at Hastings on 1066, when William Duke of Normandy came to conquer the country, staring at the battlefield from afar, looking for the familiar blond head. Merlin was _sure_ that he would’ve found Arthur on a battlefield.  But he didn’t see anything, except death and fear. He had been there on so many other battles, a few of them he even fought in. Many were won, many were lost. But he never saw the person he had been desperately looking for. He eventually stopped looking and went back to travelling, forgetting about the prophecy.

  1. **In the middle of nowhere, around the end of 1384**



That’s the reason why he was in the middle of nowhere, around the end of 1384, on a particular rainy cold night. The sorcerer would _never,_ not even once in his eternity, admit that _he_ , the Great Merlin, son of Balinor, Emrys and the last Dragon Lord, was _lost_. He had been roaming on that piece of forest forgotten by the Grace the Gods for what felt like _eons_ and now was pretty tired. Sighing desperately, he evoked a will-o’-the-wisp to lead the way out of that ungodly maze of wood. The little blue ghost helped him through and drove him next a rustic little cottage near the end of the forest. Once he was out of the maze raindrops started to hit his face harder, but  he could still see the stars and understand that he was not distant from the Lake of Avalon. He immediately started to walk toward the direction of the long lost lake, now hidden from mere mortals that no longer believed in magic, but the _fatuus_ had another route in his little mind: it lead Merlin to the small house, where he was able to see lights coming from the inside, despite the fact that his eyelids were almost glued with water. ‘Where there’s light there’s life’ he muttered to himself before following the little ghost to the cottage. He knocked firmly on the door, his moneybag magically levitating into his hand, soaked in rain to the bone. In a matter of a few moments he heard little footsteps and the door was opened by a 8 years-old girl that was missing her front teeth and a smile that could light up the world. “ _Eala_ (Hey) ” she said in her sugary melodic voice looking up at Merlin. The sorcerer smiled at her, but before he could say anything her father rushed to the doorsteps. Merlin was left speechless, his mouth gaping in a ‘O’ shape as he stared at the man he once knew so well. He said something Merlin didn’t manage to catch to _his_ daughter and she kindly obliged. “ _Gōdne ǣfen_ (Good Evening)”, his mouth formed the words; the same mouth that once kissed him softly and then roughly and then passionately, the same mouth that threw insults at him, the same mouth that had whispered so many ‘ _I love you’_ s. But it wasn’t the same anymore: his lips were chapped from the cold, not nearly as soft as the ones he had kissed before. His voice wasn’t the same either, it had a really marked accent now. Merlin’s eyes scanned the man in front of him, looking for a resemblance with _his_ king: same height, same hands, same broad shoulders. Same golden locks that were now reflecting the light from inside of the cottage. The sorcerer locked eyes with the man, the stranger, looking for a memory, a glimpse of what once was, but found two dark irises staring back at him expectantly. Merlin tried to mutter an apology, “ _Iċ besorgie_ (I’m sorry)”, while his mind was still spinning, his heart beating fast: the man he once and will always love didn’t exist anymore, but he was nevertheless alive and breathing. And that was something. This new Arthur had apparently had lost his patience, since he had kindly shut the door closed. Merlin chuckled, a small emotionless laugh before returning to his original path toward Avalon. At least his temperament was still the same, he bitterly thought. Rain kept on spilling in his face, he wasn’t crying, it was just the rain. His mind was trying to grasp what he had just saw: Arthur was back. Well, not Arthur per-se, but he was still him.  Suddenly the words a seer had said to him a long time ago came back: ‘ _You will see him’_ he had said, _‘he will be out of your reach’_ he had said. The sad truth hit him like a wave hits the shoreline: he _had_ seen him, clearly, but he was not _him_ , wasn’t the Once and Future King, was just an imitation. But hope filled his heart, for the first time in many, many years: he would’ve meet him _again._ He just had to wait, they were two sides of the same coin after all. Merlin took a deep breath and turned around: a tall broad figure was at the doorsteps, the lights that came from behind him still illuminating his hair and making them shine. Despite the thick rain Merlin could easily see him. And that lifted a heavy weight on his chest: there still was Hope for them.

  1. **West Side of the Thames, London, 5 th November 1666**



People were running everywhere, screaming. Mothers protected their children, husbands shielded their wives. That had happened three days before, on the first day of the Great Fire of London, as it would’ve been called later by history. It destroyed half of the city, taking many lives in his awake. Merlin was there too. He had sensed something wrong a few days before the Fire and had came into the city to control it. For the past three days he hadn’t slept nor eaten, he had just tried to save as many lives as possible and to stop the flames somehow. His magic couldn’t work properly, so it had been an hard task, but the sorcerer still managed it. And there he was, on November 5th 1666, exhausted and restless walking on the West Side of the Thames, looking for a place to rest. Humans were desperately trying to improve the situation, picking up debris and cleaning the streets. Merlin was enchanted by them: they had all lost so much, but still managed to help each other. Tall men with burned skin and dirty hair worked along-side of smaller ones with clothes covered in ash and dust. The sorcerer smiled sadly at them, he was too tired to do any good. He felt once more as he did back in Camelot: after hours hunting with the Prince, he had always been exhausted and dreamt of nothing more than a few hours of sleep, to regain the strength. Arthur, instead, was unstoppable, always pushing his limits and yelling at his manservant whenever he dozed off on the horse. Merlin was so tired, he even imagined Arthur’s voice yelling at him, there in one of the many ruined streets of London. Or at least so he thought: the voice kept yelling orders and suggestion to the other men. It was like Merlin had suddenly woken up from a daydream. His eyes darted back and forth, searching every face, and finally came to rest on _him_. It took a few moments for Merlin to actually realize that he was here. Arthur had changed this time: his face once so clear and shaven was now covered by a thick blonde beard; his features were softer, the jaw line not as hard as it was before, the shoulders not as broad. He seemed smaller, thinner. Merlin chuckled, thinking ‘ _Your belt isn’t shy of perfection anymore, Your Grace’_ , just as the reincarnation turned to face him: those blue eyes as clear and bright as the sky were framed by a pair of rectangular glasses and they gently poked a hole into Merlin’s skull. The New Arthur seemed confused, perhaps trying to remember something, but he just shrugged it off and went back shouting orders. ‘ _Something never changes’_ , Merlin thought. His voice was still the same, as it was in Camelot: a particular lovable accent and a hint of sarcasm behind each word. A tear started to make its way through Merlin’s cheek because of all the smoke and the dust, and not because his heart was once again full of love and hope, of course not! It would’ve been so easy for the sorcerer to go and talk to that man, but Merlin decided against it and resumed his path, a smile on his face and a lighter heart to accompany him. Absently he thought of when he would’ve seen him next. His heart hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too long.  

  1. **Countryside of Oxford, 5 th April 1828**



The year after the battle of Trafalgar, Merlin decided to finally settle and start living a normal life, permitting his body to age in order to not arouse any suspect. On December 1806 he had bought a small cottage outside of Oxford and resumed  his old job as a physician, or as it had begin to being called,  a doctor. Gaius’s old lessons and his powerful magic worked perfectly along-side of the new healing skills that progress and science had discovered. Merlin put both his heart and his soul into curing and healing, from small fevers to big diseases. He had started as a young 20-years-old looking lad who looked too clumsy to actually do any good, but in a small matter of time people began to trust him and value his abilities.  His heart was once again filled with joy: he was _saving lives_ , doing his best to help others. But occasionally things were beyond his control: people of an age still died, peacefully in their sleep; kids sometimes couldn’t make it out of a fever. In this occasions Merlin tried his best, but it still wasn’t enough. But in the 22 years he had lived in Oxford he had saved so many lives, helped so many people, and that made the pain bearable. He now looked older, grey hair and a moustache on his face. His eyesight needed a little help, thanks to his physical age, so he had started to wear glasses. People called him repeatedly to assist relatives and friends who were in pain and he was always happy to help.

By the beginning of March  the weather hadn’t been kind, bringing heavy storms and a late spring. People suffered and died, no exception of age. Merlin tried his best, but Nature doesn’t like to be opposed to. So the sorcerer helped as he could, easing the pain with his herbs and his spells. By the end of the month everything went back to normality, the temperatures started to grow warmer and life sparkled again.

One day Merlin had been called to attend an old man who was on his dead bed. The sorcerer kindly came to the manor in the middle of the countryside and was greeted by a young maid, “Mr, is so kind of you to have come. The Master is waiting” said and lead him through the house. The old man was laying on a soft bed, between silk sheets and soft pillows. The main coughed slightly and he immediately opened his eye, “Thank you Tess, now leave us alone”. The girl swiftly left the room, closing the door behind her, but Merlin wasn’t paying her attention; his eyes were focused on the other’s blue eyes. Blue eyes that shined naturally, clear as a cloudless sky. Blue eyes that the sorcerer loved. This new Arthur was _old_ : skin as thin as paper and as fragile as water, hair whiter than Gaius’, veins that were visible through the colourless skin. This Arthur was _dying_ : his breaths were laboured and short, hands shaking. He wouldn’t have seen another sunrise, not even with Merlin’s magic. The only thing that seemed fine where his eyes, that were now studying him. “Come closer” Arthur said, and so he did. The sorcerer’s eyes were filled with tears that blurred his sight. “Do I know you? Your face reminds me of someone”, blue eyes ran over his face with curiosity, trying to remember. Merlin’s heart was slowly breaking as he said “No, sir. I don’t think we have had the pleasure”. “You’re lying, boy, your eyes are wet. I knew you, did I not?”, Arthur insisted with a shaking but somehow firm voice. Blue eyes looked straight into his soul. The sorcerer couldn’t take it any longer: tears started to spill from his eyes as he fell into his knees next to the bed. The old man kept on staring at him through his lashes, trying to understand the situation. Merlin couldn’t bring himself to stop, his heart was shattering once more. How cruel was Fate! Seeing the love of your life, your best friend, your _soulmate_ alive and knowing that you’ll never see them again in their lifetime was one thing, but seeing them dying without you being able to do anything for the second time was horrible. Through the sobs, the sorcerer managed to say: “You knew me, a long time ago. We were two sides of the same coin, Your Grace.” The old man stared in shock at Merlin and said “Go away. There is nothing you can do to help me and I don’t want to cause you any more pain. I’m sure we will meet again”. The sorcerer was out of tear, his voice shaking and broken as he spoke, “I do not want to leave your side”. “True, but I am old and I’m going away. You do not need to be here, doctor, I made peace with my demons. Now go and let me sleep, there’s nothing you can do”. Merlin was speechless, just sobs managed to escape his mouth. Raising onto his feet he took Arthur’s hand: it was so fragile he feared it would’ve broken by the touch. “We will meet again, Your Grace” he solemnly said, laying a gentle kiss on the hand as the old man closed his eyes, life vanishing from his body. The maid had came back carrying a trial with a bowl of soup, that immediately went scattering on the floor as the young girl rushed next to the bed. “I’m sorry” Merlin muttered leaving the room and teleporting himself into his little cottage. Once he was safely hidden in his bedroom, he started crying uncontrollably, wrapping his arms around his chest and embracing himself. He scream at the top of his lungs his pain until his voice broke. His heart couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn’t right, it shouldn’t have been right. He shouldn’t have been able to see the man he loved die over and over again. Arthur shouldn’t have been this close to him, he just shouldn’t have. Merlin was miserably sobbing, eyes shut closed as he tried to remember why he still woke up every morning. Why did he still fight, why did he still live? Suddenly Old Arthur’s word came back into his mind, “ _I’m sure we will meet again”._ The sorcerer dried his tears and stared in front of himself. The answer was easy: Arthur. His king would need him one day as he did in Camelot. His lover would be waiting for him. He had to wait as well and hope that when the day came they’ll both be able to enjoy it. Together.

  1. **Dempsey Barracks, April 1942**



Another century had passed smoothly for Merlin: he had moved from town to town every so and then, changing his physical age and healing people. For years he hadn’t cared about what happened in the world, not participating to any battle nor fight. The Great War came and went, not concerning  at all Merlin, until the bodies had come back home. Bodies of young kids whose mothers he had helped giving birth; bodies of men who had a family; dead bodies of men he knew. That was the moment that Merlin realized how wrong it had been of him to not care. Staring down at a graveyard full of names he once knew well, he promised himself that he would never repeat the same mistake. He swore to himself that he would help where he was needed most. And so he did. On January 1940 he enrolled and sailed toward the battlefront. For two years he was Merlin Emrys,  skilful surgeon and Army Doctor. He had moved four times, in different camps at different times of the year. He saw many lives flash before his eyes, going away without him being able to do anything; but he had also had saved so many, helped so many get home safely. And somehow he managed to not let the past hurt him, pain him. On April 1942 he had to move again: his services were needed somewhere else. He was lead through the Northern Westphalia, and entered the new camp. Merlin was immediately escorted to the infirmary, where two nurses began to explain the situation to him: there had been an attack overnight and many had been injured. Fortunately the casualties hadn’t been much. The sorcerer used all the magic at his disposal to ease the soldiers’ pain: many had lost an arm, a leg; many were being shot; one had had his eyes burned out by an explosion. Merlin feared for that poor man, not even his magic was powerful enough to heal him. The sorcerer focused completely on every one of his patients, patching the wounds and stopping the bleedings. He put a clean bandage on the poor man’s eyes as he screamed in pain. The next few days passed in a rush. Merlin never left the infirmary, having one of the nurses to bring him food. He didn’t need to sleep, a spell could easily do the trick and, he promised himself, he would sleep when the emergency was over. Right now his patients needed him, especially the one with the eyes burned out. He had tried everything: drugs, medicines, spells, potions, natural remedies against the pain, _everything._ Nothing could ease his pain and his life was slowing fading away. On the fourth day many of the injured had been sent back home, leaving the infirmary empty, if not for the doctor and his blind patient. His pain was slowly easing, a clear sign that life was slipping away from his hands. At noon his screaming had stopped, leaving his voice hoarse and rough. Merlin changed his bandaged once more, staring into those lifeless and colourless eyes. The sorcerer tried to imagine the colour that once lived into them, the exact shade they were once. The man, Rory Stevensson as Merlin read on his medical records, was awfully young, not even 30 yet. His hair were dirty and all stuck together by the sweat. His facial features were soft and strong at the same time. When he spoke his voice came out in quick breaths and laboured words, a sound that reminded Merlin of a time long lost, :“Doc, I’m dying, am I not?”. Merlin’s heart painfully tightened: Rory was right, he was dying, and there was nothing, _nothing_ , the sorcerer could do to help him. He had read all his books, desperately trying to find a cure, but there was none. “It’s all right, doc. I get it. I don’t even want to live without my sight. I’m useless” he slowly said. Merlin nodded a ‘ _no’_ in response and then said: “It’s not true. You’re still young”. “Still young and a fool. I should’ve been more careful”. The sorcerer could feel the other’s beating heart beginning to give up, as his somehow familiar voice said:“Doc, could you please tell me a story? To guide me where I’m going”. Merlin swallowed a lump on his throat, and did as he was asked. He told the young soldier a tale of dragons and knights, of kings and witches. He told of Arthur, of how he had been the Greatest King to ever have lived. He told of Merlin, his servant and the sorcerer who had saved his prince’s life many times. He told him of their epic love story, that would always be remember by history. Rory slowly fell silent, his chest didn’t raise and fall anymore to let his lungs breath. It was all Merlin needed to understand why his voice felt so familiar: it was the same voice that had shouted many orders, the same that had said witty remarks. The same that had whispered many ‘ _I love you_ ’s when they were alone, the same that had shouted many times Merlin’s name in the middle of the night. After more than a thousand years Merlin had missed and almost forgotten how melodic Arthur’s voice was. But the sorcerer could never forget the blue eyes that were now closed, forever. Blue eyes that  taunted his worst nightmares and lived on his most precious dreams. Time could erase both small and big things, such as the way water roamed over Arthur’s body or how stubborn he was about his weight. He was slowly forgetting him, his mind and his memory betraying him, but he would never forget those blue eyes. Those blue eyes that he loved and loved him back. Tears began to stream down the sorcerer’s face, but he didn’t care. Merlin took the lifeless hand, muttering a soft “Sire”, before gently placing a butterfly kiss on the pale and chapped lips. When the nurses came, a half an hour later, they found him still sitting next to his king. Merlin’s face was pale, cheeks lined with tears.  The older one said: “He’s in a better place now”. A sly reply came from Merlin’s dry mouth, “We can hope he is”. The sorcerer laid on his matters, failing to fall asleep and staring at the dark ceiling. He wondered why Fate was so cruel with him, but nevertheless he wouldn’t trade those bitter sweet memories for anything. An ‘ _almost_ ’ was better than nothing at all. When he did manage to close his eyes a simple sentence occupied his mind, ‘ _we will meet again’_ had said old Arthur almost a century before. Merlin hoped that it wouldn’t take his love a long time to come back to him.

  1. **London, 31th October 2015**



Merlin had never liked to party. Back in Camelot, whenever there was a feast or a ball, he had to serve and attend the guest while wearing that stupid hat Arthur always forced him into. During the Middle Ages he choose to travel instead of living inside some courts, which meant not having to participate to those silly dances and having to socialize. Around the middle of the 18th century he had joined a few balls, but never really enjoyed them. The 80’s came and went away , leaving Merlin in peace after having annoyed him for almost a decade with their up-beat melodies. He had been to a few clubs during the end of the 90’s and the first years of the millennium, but they were too chaotic for his liking. It wasn’t that Merlin didn’t like music, au contraire he loved it, but he preferred a different kind of sound: his soul had fallen in love with rock music in a small bar in Southampton and nothing seemed to satisfy him more. He also wasn’t a huge social butterfly and always preferred to stay home to watch a film or read a book instead of going out. The 2010’s were a great period from his point of view: science and medicine had evolved and improved, making Merlin’s job as a doctor easier than ever. Also technology was helping him spending peacefully his free time: the greatest sorcerer of all time would stay home all night binge watching his favourite TV shows without feeling guilty, because he knew that many others from around the world did the same; he would put his phone on shuffle and dance awkwardly around his living room while singing off-beat punk rock songs; he would get himself lost in time while watching a ‘ _How To Cook A Pancake_ ’ video on YouTube and end up with a forty-five minutes video about ‘ _How To Train an Elephant’_. He would blog and cry about how his OTP was never going to kiss because one of them was still locked in the closet and the other one was an awkward celestial being. Merlin loved spend time this way, but he was eventually forced to leave his apartment and socialize. Some of the nurses that worked with him at the Queen Mary’s Hospital, and that also happened to have a crush on him, tricked him into going out. So that was the reason why he was staring at his closet, trying to find something to wear. It was Halloween night and there had been organized a masked party to celebrate: even if those former kids were adults now, people who paid taxes and had jobs, this didn’t mean that they couldn’t be childish sometimes. Halloween was one of the few ‘ _holidays_ ’ that 30-years-olds could still enjoy. But Merlin wasn’t a 30-years-old man, he was over a millennium years old: he was as old as the actual pagan tradition, he wasn’t allowed to dress up and make a fool of himself while wearing a silly costume! Not again, at least! Apparently that wasn’t what his colleagues thought, though. Especially one of them, a red-haired nurse called Jen, believed that her mission to the world was to hook-up Merlin with someone. She had convinced the sorcerer that “A little party never killed anyone! Beside it’s Halloween, where girls can actually dress all slutty and never being blamed for it!”. Merlin took a deep breath, allowing the air to fill his lungs, and decided to go old-school like: grabbing a lilac silky tunic from the 16th century, that had remained intact thanks to his magic, he made appear out of thin air a flower crown that laid gently on his messed up hair. He put a thin layer of eyeliner on his eyes and some sparkly blush on his cheeks and stared at his reflection on the mirror: The Greatest Sorcerer of all Time was ready to go out in public dressed as a nymph. Before he could regret every single one of his life choices, Jen knocked impatiently at his door, letting him know that he should’ve been ready minutes ago since he wasn’t indeed a girl. Chuckling, he locked his front door and let the girl lead the way. Once they arrived at the party Merlin was overwhelmed by how many decorations were put outside the house: ghosts hung up next to the windows; spider-webs covered everything; skeletons laid on different positions. The music that came from inside was loud and comforting at the same time, the speakers were blasting Green Day music. Merlin was in awe, everyone was dressed differently: he recognized some faeries, a Disney princess, people dressed with their houses’ colours and robes. A few were dressed as knights, shiny armours and red cloaks. The sorcerer smiled sadly, they reminded him of different times. His eyes roamed across the room and stopped abruptly at a pair of eyes that stared at him. Intense beautiful blue eyes were poking holes into his skull, the clad in metal body to whom they belonged to was making his way across the room, toward Merlin. He was paralyzed, legs refusing to move and brain forgetting how to function properly. Everything was confused, as seen through the water; the breaths that came out of his mouth were short and fast; his heart was racing against his chest. But nothing of it matter, because _he_ was there. Merlin had desperately tried to find him in the past seventy years, looked through his magic, but nothing had worked. And now he was there. There of all places! Arthur’s eyes had never leaved his face, studying his face. Without realizing it, both men were now standing close to each other. Tears started to fill Merlin’s eyes, threatening to run across his cheeks. Arthur was now staring directly into his eyes, blue against blue, as it should’ve been. Music all around them was blasting through the speakers, but neither of them cared. With a soft smile on his lips, Arthur said :“You came back to me”. A simple sentence that made Merlin’s heart stop and restart ten times faster. Without caring about who saw them, he grabbed Arthur’s armoured shoulders and kissed him hungrily, hard in the mouth. The other man replied with the same fervour and hunger. A thousand years had passed between their last kiss and this moment, but it still came naturally to both of them to lock their lips together, to melt against each other. After many marvellous moments, Merlin pulled back to stare into those breathtaking blue eyes that he loved and loved him back again, “I hope I haven’t make you wait too long, Your Royal Prattiness”. A laugh escaped Arthur’s lips as he kissed him back again and muttered through his lips :“I’m here to stay. Hope you don’t mind”. Merlin’s reply came easily off his mouth, “I don’t mind at all” he said before returning all of his attention to his lover.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! It really means the world to me.  
> I had originally planned a 5+1 fic, but I made Melipedia suffer enough, and she had been so kind with me during the writing process that I couldn't let her be distressed.  
> Let me know in the comments what you thought about this story.  
> Thank you again!


End file.
